Stacey and I had never in our lives experienced anything like the combination of heat and humidity that greeted us upon our arrival in Seoul. Record high temps were set for six days in a row. Is it possible for relative humidity to exceed 100%? Even Koreans slowed down their hectic pace a wee bit. How is it a human body can drink four gallons of water in a day and not urinate. It's called sweat.
Our walk to school is a relatively pleasant amble of less than a mile up Wolgye-ro. Pleasant on a pleasant day, the stroll can become rather gruelling during a heat wave. As good as Koreans are at lining their streets and boulevards with succulent vegetation, heat still gets trapped at street level on hot summer days. The smells of hordes of people living in close proximity are also at their finest. Whiffs of petrol, kimchi, and excrement or a mixture thereof hang heavy in the humid air. It makes a person yearn for a cleansing rain or a stiff northerly breeze.
We could catch a bus or taxi but where's the fun in that? Real men walk or drive a Harley up the sidewalk but we'll get into that another day. So, in the heat, the walk to school can be overtaxing. Several days into the heat wave, Stacey and I were working up the courage and conviction to set out for school. It was morning and it was sticky hot. We knew well the walk would be more like a swim through sauna-like air, perspiration dripping from our foreheads and our lightweight clothing pretty much drenched. We knew we could do it. We're hardy, aren't we? To get to ground floor on the elevator we go down "4-3-2-1-L" with "L" being street level. We love Seoul and our new life but we were dreading stepping outdoors.
The elevator stopped at "1", the doors slid open, and little did I know just then, we had come face to face with an angel of mercy. What turned out to be a Japanese woman pulling a small wheeled cart loaded with two crates of the loveliest, most fragrant peaches ever entered the elevator. She had a couple kids in tow. Not much English is spoken in our very Korean part of Korea. Thus, lots of smiling and nodding on our behalf. The Japanese woman began to speak Asian English..."You teachers at A-P-I-S?" "She is," I acknowledged, pointing at a soon to be sweaty Stacey, adding "I'm just along for the ride."
More Asian English issued forth, "I A-P-I-S parent." We didn't quite comprehend "parent". Stacey and I eyed each other quizzically thinking "she's an APIS what?" She could sense we were perplexed so she spelled it out, "parent...P-A-R-E-N-T." Light bulbs clicked on over our heads. We got it. We were in the company of the mother of APIS students.
"You want ride to school in car with us?" she asked in a lovely, lilting Asian dialect. Have you ever had an overwhelming urge to kiss a perfect stranger. I mean to plant a big, wet, sloppy buss right on someone's cheek as an expression of undying gratitude. I'm happy to say I restrained myself so as not to be reported to building security. The elevator doors closed. Instead of stopping at "L" and Stacey and Rod hitting the hot bricks, the elevator continued on down, "B1...B2". The doors opened and there before us was a rather normal underground parking area. To us, it was the most beautiful array of vehicles ever assembled. An oasis of relief.
We got our ride to school and were given peaches as were many other grateful peach recipients at school that day. We worked several hours. When it was time to head home, we set out across the steamy, hot APIS parking lot. Now we would get to sweat. Hark! A distant voice! "You want ride home?" It was the lovely, diminutive Japanese woman... the Heavens had assigned us a guardian angel. Must be doing something right.
So, anyway, to wrap up, our APIS provided mattress in our apartment is really hard. How hard? Think twice as hard as a hardwood floor. Granite maybe. No problem. Simply buy a new, thick mattress pad and haul it home on the bus or try to arrange delivery in Korean. Easier said than done at this stage. In a conversation with our new angel of mercy, I offhandedly remarked on the firmness of the bed. She piped up, "I shop for pad for you. I bring home. You not like, I can return it to store. How much you want spend?" So I threw out a number. "I think I can get for less," she added. I've since discovered she's a savvy shopper.
So this past Saturday, Stacey and I were down at Yongsan in the heart of the city visiting friends from the States all afternoon. We got home in the evening plumb tuckered out. The in-building intercom chimed on the wall. One new mattress pad coming right up. Stacey and I enjoyed our best night's sleep since we set foot on Korean soil. Life is good.
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